Haiku
by Ampersand Ellipsis
Summary: Inspired by an unusual source, Booth writes a haiku for Bones...and she writes one in return.
1. Chapter 1

Haiku

"How much longer is it going to take, Bones?" Booth asked impatiently.

"I told you, Booth, as soon as the mass spectrometer is finished analyzing the particulates, Hodgins can give us an estimate of location. Until then, you just have to wait." She gave him a look that clearly said, "You should know that" before settling into the chair behind her desk. She was instantly absorbed by whatever was on the computer screen.

Annoyed, Booth frowned and walked over to one of Brennan's bookcases. He'd never noticed how many little odds and ends she had laying around. He started picking things up, turning them over and putting them back in a different spot. He chuckled to himself when he saw Jasper, the pig he'd given her, standing next to Brainy Smurf. He sneaked a glance at his partner before carefully balancing Brainy on Jasper's back. He quickly moved to another bookcase before she noticed what he'd done.

"What's this, Bones?" He asked, holding up a small, stone figure.

Brennan looked up from her computer distractedly and answered vaguely, "That's a pre-Columbian fertility goddess."

"Huh," Booth said. He picked up another trinket. "And this?"

Brennan sighed, flicked her eyes up to the item in his hand and said, "That's a pottery shard from my last dig in Tunisia."

"Mmm," Booth said. He picked up a framed picture featuring a small group of people, including a younger Brennan, gathered around a decomposed body. "Ew," he said. "Hey Bones, who are these people?" He held up the picture for her to see.

Brennan slowly pushed back from the desk, stood up and crossed the room. She took the picture from Booth's hand, placed it carefully back on the shelf and said in a measured voice, "That's my doctoral cohort at our first crime scene."

"Hey!" Booth protested when she grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him around and marched him out of her office.

"I have to finish this chapter by tomorrow, Booth. I promise I will call you when the results are in," she said firmly, walking back into her office and pulling the heavy glass doors shut behind her.

"Fine," Booth said and looked around the lab. Knowing the results would come in by the time he got back to his office, he chose to wander around a bit, looking for anything to ease the numbness of waiting he felt creeping into his brain.

As he often did, he soon found himself standing at Hodgins' desk. It's not like he liked the guy, but he seemed to be fairly normal, all things considered, and there was usually something non-squinty and interesting there.

_Besides, Hodgins has to come back here to look at the results anyway_, Booth told himself.

His eyes scanned the top of the desk and he saw the usual microscopes and charts full of data. There was a new addition, however, that soon caught Booth's eye. It was a small sheet of thick paper that looked handmade. He recognized the curling, thick writing as Angela's. It appeared to be a short poem. Booth leaned closer and read:

More than bugs and slime

More than his money could buy

"Be my love," my guy

"A Haiku," he said with a small smile.

"That's right," Hodgins said, suddenly appearing. He smiled up at Booth. "Angela gave that to me for the anniversary of our first date."

"Nice," Booth said. "Are there results somewhere in that?" He asked, pointing irritatedly at the papers in Hodgins' arms.

Hodgins, slightly disappointed, sighed and said, "Yes, it looks like our victim spent some time in the Rocky Mountains before settling here in DC."

Booth slapped Hodgins on the back and said, "That's great, buddy, thanks," as he walk-jogged towards the exit.

By the time Hodgins said, "You're welcome," Booth was already on his phone and turning the corner out of the lab.

Later that week, Booth found himself alone in his office. Rebecca had taken Parker to visit her parents for the weekend and he had no plans. He looked around his office trying to decide if he needed to do anything else before he left. His eyes rested on the paper-mache dragon Parker had given him for his birthday. He laughed at the crooked tail and the long, broad back. Suddenly he remembered the homemade paper haiku of Angela's.

"Haiku," he said, pulling out a notepad from his top drawer. He stared at the paper for a minute before starting to write. He tapped on the desk, checking the number of syllables in each line. When he felt like he was finished, he sat back from the desk, leaned back in his chair and read what he had written:

Diatomaceous

Blunt force trauma to the skull

Decomposition

"Stupid," he said and crossed through it. He sat still for a moment and closed his eyes. When he opened them he started writing until he had:

She stares at bones like

I stare each time through my sight

At my next target

"Better," he said. "But not good enough."

He stood up and interlaced his fingers behind his head. He needed to move.

Not yet ready to drive home, he left the FBI building and started walking down Pennsylvania Ave towards the Capitol. He ran to the top of the stairs, then walked back down. He stopped behind the Peace Monument at the bottom of the hill. He had always liked the monument, but today, with the setting sun blazing in the sky as a background he saw it, literally, in a new light.

The marble, normally cold and stark white, seemed to soften and breathe with a life of its own. For the first time he noticed the long, slim lines of the neck of the figure representing "History." She stood above him, her head bent forward, studying the tablet she held in her hand, seemingly oblivious to the world around her. It reminded him of all the times he spent standing behind Bones when her hair was pulled back and she was leaning over, staring at something, lost in her observations.

The figure of "Grief" also made him think of Bones. She stood right next to History, her head bowed in anguish and buried in one hand, nearly overcome. Her other hand was extended, reaching to History's shoulder, seeking comfort, as Bones had reached out to him so many times in the past.

Booth felt a lump rise in his throat and suddenly what he'd been trying to write formed in his mind. By the time he got back to his office he'd worked out the syllables and simply had to put pen to paper and let the words flow out.

Brennan came into her office early Monday morning to find a single sheet of paper from a legal pad lying across her keyboard.

"What on earth?" she muttered as she picked up the paper. She immediately recognized Booth's handwriting. Her mouth fell open and she blinked against hot tears that stung her eyes as she read the haiku:

As strong as marble,

Delicate as draped fabric,

Beautiful in grief


	2. Chapter 2

Haiku 2

Haiku 2

Brennan was startled by the gasp she heard from behind her. She whirled around and found herself face to face with Angela.

"Is that from Booth?" She asked breathlessly.

For once she was grateful for the blush she felt creeping up her neck to her cheeks. It seemed to burn the tears right from her eyes. "Yes," she answered as calmly as she could. "Though I don't know what it means." She took a deep breath. "Why would he do something like this?"

"I think it's sweet and terribly romantic," Angela gushed. "He loves you Bren." Undeterred by the glare she received from her friend, she continued, "And I don't just mean that the way I've been teasing you all this time. He really knows and understands who you are and loves you fully and completely. And this haiku is just another way for him to express that, that's all. In fact, I wrote a haiku for Hodgins just a few weeks back. He has it taped up on his desk, though I really meant only him to see it," she added to herself. "Oh well, you know Booth, always wanting to prove himself the 'well-rounded man.' I still think it's lovely. Are you going to respond?

"I don't know. You know I'm not good at these types of things. Is that expected? I wouldn't even know what to say," she finished lamely.

Angela let out a rude, disbelieving noise. "Are you an internationally famous author or not?"

This actually pulled a smile from Brennan and she said, "No pressure, thanks Ang."

Angela grabbed her friend into a tight hug and said, "You know what, Bren? Just write what you feel, that's all. Sometimes it's the simplest things that mean the most."

Brennan watched Angela's retreating figure, trying to understand the flood of emotions she was feeling. It was a bit overwhelming. She sat down and reread the haiku several times over before leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. Suddenly she sat up, bit her lip and started typing:

My knight in shining

F-B-I standard issue

body armor, Booth

_OK, that's stupid,_ Brennan told herself as she quickly deleted the lines, checking over her shoulder to make sure no one had read it. Again she sat back in her chair and closed her eyes for a minute, letting scenes with Booth run through her mind. She wanted something that would touch him as his haiku had touched her. Something to show him she knew who he was and appreciated him. She wanted to capture what he embodied to her, but how to do that in 17 syllables?

She started typing again. Her eyes lit up as she read the words. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she copied them into an email and sent it to Booth. She was both eager and nervous about how he would take it. When she found that she couldn't stop fidgeting, she got up and headed to Angela's office.

_Maybe she has a story about what she did this weekend that will distract me,_ Brennan thought. _I don't know why I'm having such a hard time concentrating._

Booth came into the office Monday morning quite pleased with himself. He'd finished his Haiku and snuck back into Brennan's office just after she left Friday night. He'd laid it right on her keyboard where she'd be sure to find it as soon as she walked into work.

He sat down at his computer to check his email and was surprised to see one from Bones.

_She never sends me emails,_ he thought. He checked his cell phone, but there weren't any indications that she'd phoned. _Why didn't she just call me?_

Curious, he opened the email. Inside he saw three short lines, a Haiku in response to the one he'd left her:

Partner, confidant

Guardian of truth and right

Protector and friend


	3. Chapter 3

Haiku 3

Author's Note:

Sorry it took so long to load this!

I wrote the first 2 ½ chapters in one setting, but had the WORST time finishing this one off. It still feels uneven to me, but I'm gonna be busy for a few weeks and won't be able to post for a while so I wanted to get this out.

Hope you enjoy!

Although Brennan was initially anxious about sending the email to Booth, Angela had assured her (after reading it rapturously several times over) that it was the right thing to do. Feeling better, Brennan returned to her office and became immersed in work until nearly lunchtime when the sound of tapping on glass interrupted her.

She looked up to find Booth standing in her doorway, silhouetted against the harsh lights of the lab. She looked at him for a moment then asked, "What prompted you to write that, Booth? It was.…" She struggled for a moment to articulate her feelings into a single word. "It's… wonderful."

He hesitated for a second before asking quietly, "What made you write those things about _me_, Bones?"

Suddenly grateful she kept the lights in her office so low, she blushed slightly, but held his gaze and whispered, "They're true, aren't they?" She cleared her throat and stood up, starting to shuffle papers on her desk. "Anyway, when I received your haiku, Angela suggested that I respond in kind. I simply recorded a few of your characteristics I felt were most defining." Her voice strengthened as she backed around the desk. "Anyone who spends five minutes with you and has basic observational skills could see it."

Booth stood there and nodded silently. "Anyone," he finally repeated softly.

"Of course!" Brennan answered more loudly than she meant to. "In fact, I had a difficult time limiting them to the confines of the haiku when I was writing." _Why can't I control what I'm saying?_ she thought furiously as her teeth clamped down on her tongue in a desperate effort to stop speaking.

"I see," Booth said. He put his hands in his pockets and walked into the office. He sat down on the corner of Brennan's desk, right next to where she was standing, and crossed his arms over his chest.

She shuffled the papers in her hands then glanced at him surreptitiously before saying carefully, "You didn't answer my question."

"Did you really mean those things you wrote?" he asked.

"I mean everything I say…and write," she added dumbly.

"You've never really told me how you feel about me," he said in a slightly hurt tone.

"I don't know how you feel about me," she said somewhat bitterly.

In response, he placed his left hand on the desk behind her and leaned over until their noses were nearly touching. His right hand reached up and caressed her cheek before moving to the back of her neck. Unable to stop herself, Brennan closed her eyes, lost in his touch. "I'd hoped that'd be obvious by now," he murmured.

Brennan felt the breath catch in her throat and her eyes flew open. _What's wrong with me?_ she screamed in her head.

It's not that they hadn't been this close before. They had…many times in fact. And it wasn't even the thought that they might kiss—they'd already done that, too, even if it had been under Caroline's watchful eye.

But for the first time there was something real, tangible, and passionate in his eyes. And for the half-second prior to his lips touching hers, she felt something more intense than anything she had ever before felt or could have anticipated possible.

Her head spun lazily and for a period nothing else, not her office or her work or even time itself, existed except for her and Booth. All her senses were trained on him: what he smelt like, how he tasted, the feel of him touching her, the rustling of their clothes and the memory of his eyes burning into hers just before she closed them. It was impossible for her to imagine there was a place where he ended and she began, for surely they were the same being, a new entity created. In one kiss she was experiencing something deeper and more intimate than any of the sexual encounters she had had.

And she never wanted it to end.


End file.
